


to be alone with you

by yukiteru



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, M/M, i don't know it's like 1 in the mornign, lots of dumb gay stuff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-06
Updated: 2013-09-06
Packaged: 2017-12-25 19:03:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/956589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yukiteru/pseuds/yukiteru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>there's a new boy at harry's privileged backwoods boarding school and he probably thinks about him too much for his own good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> im dumb and this is short and im tired im sorry
> 
> there's too much zarry whoops they don't do Sexual things in words lmao don't worry it's still a larry fic
> 
> the title is from a sadjan stevensad song played on the world's saddest banjo guess what it's called
> 
> ALSO i apologize that this is all in lowercase i know that bugs the hell outta some people but hopefully u will survive
> 
> yeah enjoy!! hopefully

harry thinks it shouldn't be the way it is.

it's only the start of october but the leaves outside are already bright with autumn, a spectrum of oranges and yellows and reds dusting over the ground and the treetops. quaint houses with pastel rooftops speckle the view with the reminder that this is still london, and that even though it's a big school filled with big people, they're not as alone as it seems.  
there are five floors to irving private high school, excluding the basement and the roof. the gym and auditorium and band room and such are all on the first floor, of course, and the grade levels work up from there. it's quiet, most of the time, especially at dusk. harry comes up to the fifth floor at sunset because it has the nicest view of the forest and the sun and the victorian houses. it's weird, probably, and his friends tease him for it, but that's okay. they're the most priveliged of the priveliged, anyway, and words don't hurt him anymore.

there's a new boy at school and harry thinks about him too much, probably. his name is louis tomlinson and he's got really blue eyes and really nice hair, but he's in drama and art and laughs too loud, and he's everything harry can't have. it's sort of awful, how it seems at this school that the luckier you get in finances, the narrower you become in acceptance. but it's not his problem. he'll get over it.

that's just how life is.

"harry! harry, are you stargazing again?" harry looks up. it's zayn, of course, wearing a baseball jacket and a smirk. he doesn't seem like he's making fun of harry, for some reason. "it's almost lights out, you know."

harry smiles a little. "i've been going to this school for three years, malik, i know the schedule."

"then get your ass downstairs before miss hollis beats it for me," zayn replies smoothly, but he's on the verge of laughing, harry can tell. it's strange, because they're not as close as they used to be, but it's okay. maybe you don't need words to know someone.

"alright, alright, i'm coming."

"you better be."

they walk down the stairs and through the hallways in silence. neither of the two are good at one on one conversations, but it kind of fuels their friendship, harry thinks.  
when they get to the dorm rooms, niall is already there, opening a bottle of something he probably broke the law to get. "hey, hey, hey!" he shouts, alcohol on his breath, enveloping harry and zayn in a hug. "how are my favorite boys?"

"shh!" liam hisses from the back of the room. he was kind of a buzzkill at first to share a dorm with, but he's alright. zayn is very fond of him, even though liam just looks bewildered whenever he tries to chat. but it's cool. they're all friends, and that's how it works.

the dorm rooms are split up into duplex-like systems. each person has one roommate to share a room with, but each two rooms are connected, so it's a four person living arrangement, rather than just having one on one. this is supposed to prevent "sexual relations" with a roommate.

it doesn't.

"where'd you get the beer from this time?" zayn laughs, taking the bottle and reading the labels. "holy shit. where the fuck did you get five hundred pounds to spend on beer?"  
niall laughs, grabbing it back protectively. "where didn't i get it, is the real question." he wiggles his eyebrows dramatically. 

harry likes this niall. he's got sparkly eyes and a loud voice and he doesn't care who hears it, and that's how harry wants to be. 

"pretty sure davis gave it to him," liam chirps, barely looking up from his book.

zayn's eyes widen almost cartoonishly. "no fucking way!" he exclaims, punching niall on the shoulder. "davis? you actually talked to him? the man's a senior year legend!"

"more like a demon," liam mumbles.

niall burps. "well," he says, voice lowering theatrically, "so i'm out behind the gas station during fourth hour, right, just smoking a cig, because a man's gotta do what a man's gotta do. and as i'm going to put it out, davis comes up to me. just outta the blue. don't know why he was there. don't wanna, frankly. anyway, he's like "you seen scott anywhere?" of course i haven't. no one ever sees him. and davis says "well how much you got on you? i hear you're a bit of a drunk.""

"get out," zayn blurts, breaking into a grin. "you're famous! even the davis crew has heard of you! jesus. unbelievable."

harry worries about zayn. he sees the best in the worst of people and harry knows it'll get him in trouble.

niall takes a gulp from the bottle. it's two thirds empty already. "i wonder what they say about you guys," he laughs.

"zayn malik, universal bad boy! rides motorcycles, beats up the bad guys and gets the hot chicks!" harry exclaims.

"more like universal homosexual," niall says, earning an indignant 'hey!' from zayn, and even a laugh from liam. 

__

knock knock.

__

"fucking dickhead shit," niall mutters, shoving the bottle back in the mini fridge propped up on the table. liam looks up, eyes wide, like a deer in headlights.

harry pales and whips around, turning to open the door.

"um. hey! sorry, but miss hollis said i'm supposed to stay in this room?" a bright voice exclaims.

it's fucking louis. of course.

louis is very small. harry didn't realize it before but he's a good four or five inches under harry. he shouldn't take notice, but he does. "hey, who is it?" zayn calls.

harry steps aside from the doorway, letting louis into the room. "are you sure this is your room? we've already got four people," he says, trying to add the 'i don't want you in my dorm room' part of his thoughts into his voice.

zayn leans against the wall, a look in his eyes harry used to be scared of. he knows now that he's just wary, untrusting-- like a cornered animal, sometimes.

louis looks unsure. god, his eyes are blue. "i don't know, uh, i guess," he stammers, looking down at a crinkled piece of paper. "it says room 304b. she might have just wrote it wrong, maybe." 

"he's cool with me as long as he doesn't spill my secrets to the teachers," niall announces, abruptly.

"um. okay." louis shifts from one foot to another.

"i second that," says zayn, somehow making it seem much more menacing. "you say a word to the staff about anything that goes on in here and i'll throw your ass out a window."  
something flashes in louis' eyes at that. something like anger, but it's sort of different. it's not defensive, like zayn's. it's intense. frightening.

"maybe you should just go back down and ask her again?" liam pipes up. zayn glares at him.

"i can't do that. it's nearly midnight, now. she's gone to bed," louis replies.

harry wants to be mad. wants to feel the urge to punch louis, instead of kiss him. he wants to be intimidating and awful and a stereotypical popular boy. instead, he just wants to cuddle.

niall opens the fridge and starts rifling around, presumably for the beer bottle, or a second. "you guys are being stupid," he declares. "just let him sleep the night." 

"well, whose bed is he going to sleep in?" says liam, quietly. 

that earns a bout of silence. louis goes pink in the cheeks and begins studiously looking at his toms.

"he can sleep in mine," harry hears himself say. "someone's got to be the nice one."

zayn sends him a glance and harry knows he has to explain later, but it's messy to even think about and harry's already regretting opening his mouth.

"uh. alright!" stutters louis, something like determination in his eyes. "where should i put my things?"

"over here," harry mumbles, opening a closet filled with backpacks and jackets. louis tosses his backpack and duffel in, glancing up and down the space. it makes harry feel more self conscious than it should.

there's a long minute or two where no one says anything, the entire situation made stiff by the presence of a stranger who doesn't want to socialize. 

"we should all just go to sleep," liam says, sounding exasperated. 

zayn scuffs his shoe on the carpet. "whatever. i'm going for a run. see you guys in the morning." he slips out the door, not leaving time for a goodbye. 

"jesus," niall says after a beat of silence, the edge of a laugh in his voice. "he really doesn't like you, louis, mate."

"i know," replies louis. his voice is caught somewhere between a snap and a sigh.

harry wishes zayn would let others see him in the light he deserves. he's smart. more than smart, even. he reads mythology when no one's watching, draws beautiful things in a sketchbook he never lets anyone open. that's how he is. strictly believing he's the only one who's real-- never letting anyone know that he's not a robot. it breaks harry's heart, watching him fall apart.

-

niall and liam are deep asleep in their part of the dorm by 12:45. louis and harry share a bed on the far side of 403b, an empty but disheveled mattress at the far end.

("couldn't i just sleep on zayn's bed while he's gone?" louis had asked.  
"he will rip all of your limbs off," harry replied.)

it's too late to be reading, probably. harry decides halfway into looking for alaska that he hates john green and all of his books should be locked up and kept away from the public. it takes lots of willpower not cry in front of louis, because that wouldn't be manly and would totally shatter his entire reputation.

"can i just change here?" louis' voice snaps him out of the book. the smaller boy looks annoyed and sort of embarrassed, judging by the color of his cheeks. 

the question is startling and harry should say no. no, you can't. don't. "sure. why not."  
"don't look," responds louis, a half-smile at the corner of his mouth.

"why would i want to?" harry mumbles. it's hard not to grin, so he looks back at his book, hiding his face.

there's a rustling of clothes and god, harry does want to look. he shouldn't, because louis is going to be sharing a bed with him in like ten minutes and popping a boner wouldn't be helpful or sneaky, especially since he's only in his boxers and a t shirt. 

okay, except, louis has really nice skin and the moon is shining through the thin curtains and it's tipping his shoulderblades in silver, like wing tips, almost. the black boxers he's wearing showcase his arse and it looks really nice and kind of pillow-like, and harry kind of wants to sleep on it, and shit, he's too far gone. he can almost feel himself falling, and it's scary as all hell. 

louis slips on a somewhat overlarge t shirt. it's kind of adorable, but it isn't, because harry doesn't like boys when he's at school. he is what the majority tells him. being anything else is a suicide mission, isn't it? 

a switch is flipped and the small room goes dark, pale starlight streaming in through the fluttering curtains. louis' eyes shine in the dark, like crescent moons of grey and blue. he grins, and there's something predatory about it, and suddenly harry can tell that louis knows what he's doing. 

the boy settles down into the mattress, and harry prays to god that he can't hear his heart beating in the silence. 

"goodnight," louis whispers, a suppressed laugh in his quiet voice.

harry's throat closes up and he thinks about saying something like "get out of my room" or "i hate you" or anything equally as expected. he thinks about being surprising, saying something cheeky, like "nice arse" or some shit.

it takes all his power not to say "i love you."

-


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry goes to a party like a cool kid because that's what cool kids do B)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trigger warning for homophobic slurs and fighting!!
> 
> yeah..,.,,............. don't hurt em

harry wakes up in an empty room with a pink post it note stuck to his forehead. 

"thanks, weenie" is all it reads. harry breaks into a smile.

it's eight thirty am and sunlight dances through the curtains and bathes the small room in a pastel gold. the bed across from harry's is empty but looks slept in, so he tries not to worry. 

he gets up, mattress groaning, and rubs the sleep from his eyes. out in the tiny kitchen area (this doesn't have a stove or oven for obvious reasons) there's a plate with two pieces of bread on it. attached to it is a post it note. it's blue.

"you're welcome" it says. 

harry eats the bread anyway. 

-

the first half of the day goes by in a blur of rumors and colors and words, but that's not new. angelina perez was spotted kissing jeremy house in the bleachers. madeline loopheart cheated on her boyfriend with a girl. someone kissed someone else, someone was careless, someone is off limits.

who fucking cares.

october is usually a good month. it has been, so far. it's stormy and the wind chills skin, raises hairs, and that's how harry likes it. thunder and cold outside means you have an inside to stay warm. 

math ends with the same angry bell ringing ruthlessly in his ears. harry clutters his notebooks and things together, hugs them to his chest as a torrent of students try to squeeze through the doorway at the same time. there are about sixty students per class, and around two hundred students per grade. it's funny how so many people can go to the same school and no one seems to notice anyone but themselves.

"hey." harry looks up. it's nicki falseum. harry has biology and trig with her and she doesn't talk to him, hasn't talked to him, and he can tell she's not interested. not attracted.

he wants to tell her that he knows why she's making conversation, why she wants to know him, even if she doesn't. instead, he says "hey, what's up?" and smiles just like he's supposed to.

she smiles, blushes a little, looks at the ground. maybe she's not so fake. "my friend and i are hosting a party at her house on recordkeeping. you in?" she smiles, bright and proud. hopeful, maybe.

"sure. can i bring zayn and the others?" 

"of course!" she says, eyes wide. it's kind of awful that she thought he would blatantly turn down the offer, but that's part of having a reputation. people see you and expect things.   
he smiles, and it's genuine, this time. "alright. see you then."

the crowd of people is suffocating, everyone talking and laughing over each other. harry likes it, most of the time-- likes how alive everyone is, how they lose their inhibitions in the most crowded of areas. 

he hears giggling, hears names, hears the chanting. "get him, malik!" someone shouts and fuck, harry pushes through the crowd, and he's seeing louis and zayn in the center of the hallway and there's something burning in their eyes.

there's something that aches in harry, because it's too familiar, too much like a million times before.

"stop!" he's shouting, and he drops his papers all over the floor and steps into the circle the two boys are making but zayn shoves him away. 

the others are looking on, encouraging, entertaining themselves with cries of "beat him!" "kill him!" "get him!" harry feels nauseated. he knows he can't do anything, now.

then, someone's shouting, "malik, kill the faggot! beat him!" and then everyone's saying it, "kill the faggot!" and zayn breaks, right there, in front of harry's eyes.

zayn throws the first punch.

louis makes the first hit.

it's cliché but harry feels like time slows down, then, zayn cradling his cheek and stumbling forward once, twice. louis looks at his fist, knuckles barely skimmed with blood. he looks back, up at zayn. everyone's booing, screaming, and harry thinks he's going to throw up.  
and he leaves. he runs, converse clicking up the stairway, up to a bathroom. seniors have started class already, so no one's in the hallway, and no one can see how pale he is, or how close he is to tears.

harry slides down the wall until he's sitting, cold from the tiles seeping through his t shirt. his hands make his way to his head, his hair, his eyes. he's breathing too hard. a fight shouldn't trigger anything. it won't, wouldn't. can't.

the doorway clicks open and harry doesn't want to look up, doesn't want to see more pity, but he does.

it's louis.

louis slides down next to him, wordless. he's got bruises lacing his cheekbones and an inflamed scratch tracing light freckles down his arm. 

"what happened," harry says, lowly, and it's not a question.

louis breathes in, air hitching in his throat. "you."

there's fire behind harry's eyelids when he closes them, rests his head against the wall. 

louis looks away, pale.

"what-- what is it with you two? you and zayn." harry looks at louis then, and sees something in his eyes like worry, something like care. "you're-- i can't tell. what it is."

harry lets out a sigh, and imagines it like cigarette smoke, curling out into the air.

"zayn-- zayn and i met freshman year. we took to each other immediately, met niall and spilled secrets. did idiot shit. broke the law. zayn was always the leader-- he possesses this magnetic kind of confidence, like. he was always in control, it seemed. and, like, he introduced me to so much shit i'd always been caged from. we were like rulers of the world together." 

harry pauses.

"i don't know when it became more. it wasn't-- it wasn't a relationship. it was shallow and stupid and we only did it because we were cocky and confused about, i don't know, fuck, being gay. jesus," harry laughs, humorlessly. "we were dumb. just. i don't know. i still don't know, really, where we are."

harry looks at louis, then, and louis is smiling, kind of. "you wanna know why he punched me? because of last night. he thought you and i had fucked while he was gone."

he barks out a laugh. "oh damn. guess that's not an option now."

louis laughs, brighter than the sun.

\- 

zayn meets a pretty blonde girl on thursday. she's cute and funny and kind but harry doesn't know how long it'll last. he hopes that zayn will find someone good for him, someone who stays. 

niall leaves a vague note about nicki and dana's party and how he wants to "talk" with harry, but somehow harry doubts he'll remember. niall is like that. he moves quickly, forgets quicker.

the party is on friday. every month there's an "off weekend' where the school lets students go home to their families for a half day, random pickings on am or pm. it's nearly always party planning time for the people with larger houses and vacant parents.  
when harry gets home, gemma greets him with a "what's up, loser?" and a hug.   
the styles family household is quaint and sunny, yellow light streaming through the high windows and bouncing off the light wooden panelling. it smells of warm bread and tea candles. they have enough money to buy a larger, fancier house, but anne says she prefers the smaller things.

"mom home?" harry asks, throwing his backpack over the arm of the recliner. 

"nah, left for a business trip on wednesday. she wishes you the best, of course," replies gemma, plopping down onto the couch next to a ridiculous looking pile of college textbooks and starts leafing through one. "going to a party, i'm assuming?"

"yeah," is all he says, because he knows gemma looks down on the underage drinking and the chaos and the law breaking. she never stops him, though.

gemma sighs. "don't get too fucked up." 

"i won't," responds harry. he doesn't know if he's lying yet.

as he's getting a piece of leftover pizza from the fridge, gemma calls, "so, any cute boys at school?"

harry turns red, like he always does. "i'm into girls too, you know."

"so you say," says gemma, a smile in her voice. "that wasn't the question, was it?"

harry sighs, but he's grinning. "there might be," he says carefully, "but it's none of your business."

"what's his name?"

harry looks up, looks back at gemma exasperatedly. she's on the edge of laughing. "louis," harry mumbles. "louis tomlinson."

"louis," says gemma, trying out the name. "i like it. hopefully i won't have to beat him up."  
harry laughs, because she's not kidding. 

"anyway, when is this party?" 

harry glances at the clock. "15 minutes."

"better get over there, dork. zayn's picking you up?" she asks, an unspoken question in her words.

"yeah. he and niall. maybe liam." harry looks at the floor, ears burning. he doesn't want to talk about zayn, especially not after telling louis. it doesn't feel right, somehow.  
a car horn blares outside. zayn, of course. 

"bye harry. please don't get hurt," gemma says, softly.

he slips out the door with too many words in his mind.

-

you can hear the laughing and squealing from outside the picturesque house. there are already lights and dancing shadows shining through the curtained windows, and the smell of chlorine and alcohol and bonfire smoke in the air. 

"this is it boys!" niall exclaims dramatically as they step out of zayn's car, swinging his arms around harry and zayn. "this is the party of the month! i can feel it in the air! this is going to be a life changer!"

"you drunk already?" laughs zayn, twinkling eyes suggesting that niall isn't the only one.   
"of course!" niall practically yells.

inside, the house seems even bigger, with high columned ceilings and art covering the walls. a gargantuan pool splays out over the backyard, complete with perfectly painted fences lining the grass and cement. stan lucas from algebra is wearing a ridiculous chef hat and cooking god knows what on the grill. girls are laughing in the pool, most already in swimsuits.   
"holy shit," zayn says appreciatively. "this is awesome."

there must be over one hundred people here, and it's not even a problem. 

"hey, harry, you showed up!" nicki says, coming up behind him. she's wearing a tight red dress that shows off her hips, and she has long brown hair, and god, harry knows he should feel something like arousal but all he can think of is blue eyes and messy caramel hair.

"yeah, nice to see you!" he replies anyway. she hands him a solo cup filled with something that's probably vodka and grins. "looking for someone?" she asks.

harry's eyes widen and he can feel heat creeping into his cheeks. "no! no. not really." he takes a sip of the drink and god, it's awful, but he keeps drinking. 

"well, i better get to being a better hostess. see you later, harry," nicki says flirtatiously, and walks away. harry almost feels sick with nerves, like he's being covered in tiny electric sparks. it hurts, knowing that you're going to reject someone. he doesn't know which is worse.

he drinks it away.

-

halfway through the party he's dizzy and the music is beating through his body like a heartbeat, and he knows, he needs to find louis. he doesn't know why. 

he's pushing through the people and he can see all the stereotypes gathering around each other-- the goths smoking joints by the stairway, prep girls laughing and giggling like they've never drank before, zayn and niall chatting up girls by the television. it's sickening, and harry doesn't know why. 

the stairs creak slightly under his feet, but he's feeling too electric to care. he's still got an empty cup in his hand that he can't let go of and a nagging thought that louis is here, louis should be somewhere, where is louis? 

suddenly nicki is in front of him, giggling and chattering away and leading him into a bedroom and he's thinking that this is wrong, he should stop, but she's kissing him like fierce and he's too blurry to push her away. 

"harry?" a voice calls and oh god, there he is, and harry detaches himself from nicki. he feels mechanical as he steps away from her and looks at louis, and jesus, he looks drunk and buzzing just like harry feels.

"oh my god, i'm so sorry! oh my god," nicki babbles, face turning redder than her dress. "i'm so sorry. oh my god. i'll leave. jesus." she looks on the verge of crying as she walks out the door and harry wants to comfort her and he's too slow to think of why she's apologizing. 

louis is looking at him quizzically, analytically, making harry feel exposed and slow and stupid. louis' wearing a shirt that scoops just below his collarbones and tight black jeans, and harry wants to kiss him all over, wants to talk to him, anything.

"why did you let that girl kiss you?"

the question takes harry by surprise. "i-- what?"

"she kissed you, i saw it. you didn't do anything. why? why didn't you push her away?" louis' talking too fast for harry to process and all of his words are blurring together. 

"i didn't want to reject her," harry says, voice rising slightly.

"you could have," louis says softly. "weren't you uncomfortable?"

"of course i was!" harry almost yells, head swimming. "don't you get it? it's a character i have to play! without a role, i'm-- i'm nothing! don't you understand that?"

"i don't understand you at all!" louis says, voice equally angry.

harry laughs, kind of, but it's bitter. "me neither."

there's silence, and louis is looking at him with a mixture of anger and something unreadable on his face, in his eyes. million dollar bills is playing downstairs, the music floating up through the floorboards. and you know what?

fuck it, harry thinks, and he cups louis' face in his hands and kisses him, head spinning with alcohol. louis should turn away, should yell at him, should call him a homo and a faggot and disgusting and everything anyone's screamed at him when they learn he's not the popular rich boy they wanted him to be.

but instead harry can feel louis' eyelashes fluttering against his cheek and his arms wrapping over his shoulders, can feel his skin like it's on fire. "harry," louis mumbles against his lips, and jesus, harry can feel want in his stomach and his hands and his lungs.

they end up at louis' house, just around the corner from the party. it's small and moonlight floods in through the glass, the house basking in blueish light. louis looks canine in the light of the room, light sharpening his jaw and cheekbones in silver. christ, harry can't stop kissing him, and he knows it's not just the alcohol flowing in his bloodstream. 

louis laughs against his lips, a short sound, full of light, as they stumble upstairs and into the bedroom. the one window overlooks the large backyard below, and starlight gives the space a new feel, like something cherished and sacred. 

harry's fingernails leave halfmoons in louis' skin, bruises on his neck. harry knows people will see them tomorrow and he doesn't even fucking care.

they're on top of the world.  
-

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and feedback and outrageously appreciated thank u thank u <3

**Author's Note:**

> the summary is that harry is deep, louis is a lil bitch, zayn is a bad boy, niall is drunk a lot and liam just wants to sleep. say hell yea if u a super freak


End file.
